GIGI (1958)

GIGI (DIR: VINCENT MINNELLI) (SCR:  ALAN JAY LERNER, BASED ON THE NOVEL OF THE SAME NAME BY COLLETTE)

The Academy's choice for best picture of 1958 is one of its most lighthearted and charming choices ever; it's a sweet trifle, a light little pretty bon bon of a movie.  It was director Vincent Minnelli's second win for best picture, the first being 1951's AN AMERICAN IN PARIS, and, like that film, it's a romantic musical set in Paris (but, unlike AN AMERICAN IN PARIS, GIGI was shot almost entirely on location there, which adds to the film greatly), and both films have a script by Alan Jay Lerner (who also wrote the music for GIGI with his writing partner Frederick Lowe). But while the earlier film showed the city's cafe society and bohemian artists of the postwar period, GIGI displays the romantic side of Paris at the turn of the century, with people concerned only with love, gossip, fancy parties and fine dining.  (This is the kind of movie where the only people ever shown working are servants!).  Unfortunately, I think both films have skimpy, weak stories that are too predictable; although they may have won the best picture awards, I personally think that some of Minnelli's other musicals (like 1944's MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS and 1951's THE BANDWAGON) hold up better with age than these two films do.  Still, GIGI is a lovely film to look at and listen to, with eye popping color and CinemaScope cinematography by Joseph Ruttenberg, excellent production and costume design by Cecil Beaton, and a mostly great score by Lerner and Lowe.

GIGI began as a novella published by French author Collette in 1944; it was first turned into a pleasant but not memorable movie  by French director Jacqueline Audry in 1949.  Then in 1951 it was adapted into a Broadway play, with Audrey Hepburn in the title role.  MGM producer Arthur Freed first proposed a movie musical version of the story to writer Lerner in 1954, who had to make some changes to the original story to pass muster with the Hayes code (In the original story, Gigi learns how to be a courtesan, in this version she learns how to be "a proper lady").  Hepburn was originally going to be cast in the title role, but she was too busy and Leslie Caron was used instead.  The film was quickly completed on a budget of around 3 million dollars; it would go on to make around 13 million.

Set in Paris in 1900 and narrated by Honoré Lachaille(Maurice Chevalier), an aging romantic, GIGI tells the story of young French schoolgirl Gigi, who lives in a small apartment with her grandmother Madame Alvarez (Hermione Gingold), and receives lessons in how to be a proper lady from her once adventurous aunt Alicia (Isabel Jeans).  Wealthy playboy Gaston Lachaille(Louis Jordan), Honoré Lacahaille's nephew, is on friendly terms with Gigi and her grandmother, and he treats Gigi like a daughter or a little sister.  But, after his latest romance goes sour, he finds himself drawn to her as she begins to enter womanhood.  Eventually, he offers to make her his mistress, which she accepts with some reluctance because she's not sure if she wants to lead that kind of life.  When Gaston also realizes that he cares too much for her to treat her that way, he proposes to her, and she agrees.

The movie's opens with  Honoré Lachaille talking directly to the camera, describing love as his profession, and then singing "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" as school girls run by.  This scene has been mocked numerous times over the years, and it's easy to see why as the then 70 years old Maurice Chevalier leers at the girls.  Thankfully, the film rights itself by moving away from him, and when it does return to him later, his pursuit of much younger women throughout the rest of the film is implied instead of shown.   Actually, Chevalier is very good in the film, in a role that could have been written for him; (for years he had typified the stereotype of the jolly singing Frenchman that is irresistible to women in films like 1931's THE SMILING LIEUTENANT), and he still had a fine singing voice.  In fact, I think he think he gets the film's best musical moment as he and Gingold reminisce on a long past dinner date and duet on the what is probably the film's most famous song, "I Remember it Well."  It's a lovely song that is both witty (she has to keep correcting his poor memory) and wistful.

Hermonie Gingold and Maurice Chevalier

Leslie Caron was 27 when she took the title role, but her even younger appearance and girlish manner make her a believable schoolgirl on the cusp of womanhood (she's usually seen in her school uniform, which helps) and she appeared to enjoy the role, playing up the flighty nature of her character as she cheats at cards, sings to a cat, sneaks sips of champagne and plays tennis in a crazy waving manner.  She is both silly and lovable.

Hermoine Gingold, Louis Jordan and Leslie Caron

On the other hand,  Louis Jordan's Gaston is not particularly likable, in fact  he often seems downright stuffy, cold and priggish. In his first scene he sings about how boring he finds all the charms of Paris, a not particularly endearing character trait! And I find him particularly mean when he shrugs off the news that his former lover, Liane d'Exelmans (Eva Gabor), just attempted suicide. With his good looks and wealth, it is assumed that he has much to offer Gigi, but I wish he were a little warmer.  It's interesting to note that writers Lerner and Lowe had just finished writing MY FAIR LADY for Broadway before working on this film, since there are many similarities between Gaston and LADY's leading male character Henry Higgins, (they even sing similar songs) and, I must say,  I find it hard to warm up to either of them!

Another problem with GIGI is that its simple story feels too protracted, with its inevitable happy ending arriving almost too late.  Even worse, the best songs are all performed in the first two thirds of the film, with Gigi's solo number "Say a Prayer for Me Tonight" not making much of an impression.  Ending the movie with a brief reprise of "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" seems like a real missed opportunity; surely Lerner and Lowe could have come up with a better closing number!

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

Clearly, I have mixed feelings for GIGI, although it certainly has its charms.  But there were better films that year, such as Alfred Hitchcock's VERTIGO, Orson Welles's TOUCH OF EVIL  and THE DEFIANT ONES by Stanley Kramer.  Still, as frothy fun goes, GIGI satisfies.

THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI (1957)

THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI (DIR: DAVID LEAN) (SCR: CARL FORMAN AND MICHEAL WILSON, BASED ON THE NOVEL OF THE SAME NAME BY PIERRE BOULLE)

After the frivolous fun of AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS, the Academy took a sharp turn when it named David Lean's world war two action drama, THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI, as the best film of the year.  And with its epic sweep, big stars, long running time and excellent Cinemascope camerawork in exotic locations, it was an obvious choice, and set an epic pattern for director Lean that he would follow for his next two films: 1962's LAWRENCE OF ARABIA and 1965's DOCTOR ZHIVAGO.
The film began as a novel published by Pierre Boulle in 1952 that was based on his own experiences in the war.  It was an enormous international best seller that caught the attention of screenwriter Carl Foreman, who eventually got producer Sam Spiegel to make a deal with Columbia Pictures.  After running through a succession of possible American directors (including Howard Hawks and John Ford), the English David Lean was chosen. When Foreman and Lean clashed over the script, Micheal Wilson was brought in to finish it.   The shoot was long and arduous, but the film was a sizable hit, bringing in over 15 million dollars on a budget of around 3.
Director Lean began his film career as an editor at the Gaumont British Film Corporation in the 1930's.  In 1942 he co directed (with Noel Coward) his first feature, IN WHICH WE SERVE, a war time propaganda film.  He continued to direct highly regarded films in England, adapting Charles Dickens novels (GREAT EXPECTATIONS, 1946, OLIVER TWIST,1948) and Noel Coward plays (BLITHE SPIRIT, 1945 and BRIEF ENCOUNTER, 1945)  His first Hollywood film was 1955's charming SUMMERTIME, with Katherine Hepburn.  THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI would be his first to win best picture (LAWRENCE OF ARABIA would also win), and his first in Cinemascope.  Cinemascope was an anamorphic wide screen process first developed in 1953 that was used as a way to entice viewers away from their TV screens by providing something that could only be seen properly in a theater.  Many directors disliked the technique, because it required them to fill up much more of the frame when shooting, and it all but prevented the use of extreme closeups of actors, but Lean took to it immediately; in KWAI he displays not only beautiful scenery(it was shot mostly in the jungles of Sri Lanka), but unforgettable images like a haunting sky diving scene, or a moment when the sky fills with thousands of jungle bats.
Set in 1943, the film tells the story of two men, American soldier Shears (William Holden) and British Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guiness), who are both being held in a Japanese Jungle prison camp in Japanese occupied Thailand.  The camp leader, Colonel Saito (Sessue Hayakawa, who manages to transcend his stereotypical role and bring some dignity to it), is trying to build a supply bridge to Burma using prison labor. When Nicholson refuses to let his officers do manual labor, pointing out to Saito that it's against the Geneva Convention, Saito at first punishes him by locking him in brutal solitary confinement, but later relents and agrees to Nicholson's conditions.  Once released, Nicholson throws himself into the job of building the bridge.  Meanwhile, Shears miraculously escapes and makes his way back to British territory, only to find himself coerced into returning with three other soldiers on a mission to blow up the bridge.   Inevitably the two men find themselves at odds.

William Holden

The role of the American Shears was originally written with Humphrey Bogart in mind, but he was under contract to another studio.  William Holden had to be talked into it, and he finally agreed after netting a hefty wage and 10 percent of the profits.  Interestingly, in 1953 he won an Oscar for best actor playing a similar role in Billy Wilder's STALAG 17, so this wasn't a great stretch for him.  Still, I enjoy his brand of laid back cynicism (how cynical? In the opening scene he bribes a guard with a watch he just stole from the man he buried!), and he makes a believable (if reluctant) action hero.  Even if his scenes away from the prison camp are less compelling than the ones that are, he still has enough movie star magnetism to keep things interesting.

Alec Guinness

Alec Guinness was also reluctant to take the role of Colonel Nicholson, partly because nine years earlier he and Lean had fought while making OLIVER TWIST.  Still, he accepted and wound up winning a best actor Oscar for the role.  I consider him excellent as a complex character who's loyalty to his country comes up against what he sees as his duty.  When we first see Nicholson, he is marching his men through the jungle as they whistle a jaunty tune (the "Colonel Bogey March") in complete defiance of their situations and surroundings; we immediately see the respect the men have for him and his unfailing adherence to military order.  Although he looks a little foolish when he demands that Colonel Saito stick to the Geneva Convention, we can't help but admire him for standing up for his principles, even when that means suffering in solitary confinement (when he is first put in solitary, his men all sing "For he's a Jolly Good Fellow", a moving moment).  It is when he is released that things get complicated; he clearly sees the building of the bridge as something that transcends the war, since it will last after the war is over.  (It also allows him to satisfy his sense of British superiority by doing a better job than the Japanese were).  Clearly, Lean and his writers see a lot to admire in him, as he effectively leads his men to build an impressive bridge in a short time, even as the morality of his actions seem unclear.  The speech he gives to his men after the bridge's completion is honestly heartfelt, but, behind his veneer of classic English pride, Guinness subtly shows a  touch of madness to it as well.  It is at the film's climax, which finds he and Saito battling against Shears and his men to keep them from blowing up the bridge, that the realization of what he has done finally strikes Nicholson.  After he has caused the death of Shears, he gets a devastated look and asks, "What have I done."  Almost immediately afterwards he is shot, and his final living act is to land on the plunger that blows up the bridge.  The meaning of his last line is open for debate: while it is understandable for him to feel guilt about the death of Shears, does that also include guilt for having built the bridge?  Is his dying act of destroying the bridge intentional or inadvertent?  Lean and his screenwriters leave this open to debate, and arguments could be made for either side (which I'm sure were made in the lobby afterwards).  Although the ending is perhaps too abrupt, I still find it fascinating in its ambiguity, as it intentionally leaves open the question as to whether Nicholson is a hero or a traitor. 
Equally interesting is the contrast between the American Shears and the English Nicholson; Shears fakes injuries at the camp to avoid work, while Nicholson bravely stands up to Saito even when it means being locked in solitary.  Shears is only pretending to be an officer, while Nicholson clearly worked hard to get where he is.  Most importantly, Shears winds up doing the right thing (blowing up an enemy supply train) for the wrong reason (he is forced into it by the British military), while Nicholson does the wrong thing (aiding the enemy) for the right reason (he feels duty bound to do so).  All of this means that this is a war  film that lacks a typical noble hero, which I feel is a strong point after so many simplistic war films with one dimensional characters were made before this one (and would be made after it, too!). 
I should also mention that along with being a thoughtful film, this is also a truly exciting one, especially in the tension of the final scenes.  The moment where Shears and his men realize that the wire that connects the bombs to the bridge is visible to Nicholson is suspense worthy of Hitchcock!  And, while it does have some padding at over two and half hours, Lean usually keeps things moving nicely.


SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

This is a really tough call for me, because 1957 saw the release of another excellent war film, Stanley Kubrick's PATHS OF GLORY, and while I think THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI is a fine film, I think Kubrick's is even better.  I'm also a big fan of THE SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS and 12 ANGRY MEN.  Still Lean's film is far from a poor choice.

AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS(1956)

Enjoy my ramblings?  Check out my new blog here.

AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS (DIR: MICHEAL ANDERSON)  (SCR:  JAMES POE, JOHN FARROW, AND S.J. PERELMAN, BASED ON THE NOVEL OF THE SAME NAME BY JULES VERNE)

In a complete turnaround from the more subtle charms of the previous year's MARTY, the Academy's choice for best picture of 1955 was AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS, a huge budgeted extravaganza, shot on over 140 locations with a literal cast of thousands; producer Micheal Todd would describe it as a fairy tale for adults, certainly an apt description.  And, while it takes far too long to tell such a simple story, it holds up well overall, and is, quite simply, a fun watch.
Although veteran English director  Micheal Anderson would eventually be credited with the direction, (replacing original director John Farrow), the film was Todd's baby all the way.  He had already produced a Broadway musical version of Jules Verne's 1873 novel in 1946 that was a flop, but he was determined to get it right.  Years later he brought the rights to the novel from director Alexander Korda, who was having trouble getting it made, to take another try at it, realizing that for the story to work it would have to be told in the grandest possible manner.  This meant developing a new style of 70 millimeter projection that came to be known as the Todd-AO process; he would also demand that movie theaters treat it as a special production, with reserved seats and playbills handed out before the movie started.  His strategy would work as the film returned over 20 million dollars on a budget of around six. 
Set in 1873, the film tells the story of the English upperclassman Phlieas Fogg, who bets his friends at his exclusive men's reform club 20,000 pounds that he can travel the entire world in 80 days, a then unheard of feat.  Along with his faithful manservant Passepartout, he travels by train, ship, elephant and, most famously, hot air balloon to make the journey, and they encounter everything from bullfighting in Spain to hostile Native Americans in the US, while saving the life of an Indian princess(Shirley MacLaine) who joins them on their trip.
 Todd cast  David Niven to play Fogg, and really, the stuffy, punctual Fogg seemed like he was written for Niven to play, and he would later say it was his favorite role.  Todd made an even better choice when he hired the Mexican comedy star Cantinflas, in his first American film, to play Passepartout, even though the character in the novel is French.
Over the years this film has often been criticized for being too long, and while I agree with that to a certain extent, it should be remembered that the film was intended to only be seen in theaters with 70 MM screens.  I've seen the film twice, once on a TV screen, and once as it was meant to be seen at the beautiful Stanford University theater in Palo Alto, California, and it certainly plays better on the big screen.  The many long shots of stunning scenery and huge casts of extras don't seem as dull in the proper format.  Indeed, the film's most impressive visual moment, a long tracking shot of an enormous parade down the streets of San Francisco that seems to constantly expand to include more and more people, is downright eye popping in 70MM.
The Oscar winning script by James Poe, John Farrow and S.J. Perelman follows the source novel closely, and the additions that were made are welcome, such as the ride in the hot air balloon, and Passepartout's bout of bullfighting.  More importantly, it  never takes the story too seriously, and therefore it's easy to forgive it's occasional absurdities (like the incredibly easy way that Passepartout saves the Indian princess).

David Niven and Cantinflas

Still, at 167 minutes, the film's story often feels padded, far too much time is spent on a subplot in which Fogg is wrongly believed to be a bank robber by policeman Mr. Fix (Robert Newton), which does nothing but slow the film down.  Also, the script draws the film's climax out to an extreme level that grows frustrating for the audience, while it's final scene seems oddly rushed.  Even worse, I often find it hard to like the character of Fogg: he is stuffy, sometimes rude and condescending, and often uses his money to buy his way to victory, which seems unfair.  He also doesn't seem to have any interest in exploring the exotic places that he travels in, preferring to stay inside and play cards, a trait I find particularly annoying.  True, he does have one noble moment when he leads the charge to save Passepartout from the Native American tribe, but other than that, I find him a bit of a prig.  Worst of all is the ludicrous casting of Shirley MacLaine as an Indian princess who has white skin and blue eyes!  Not only is MacLaine unbelievable, her character is a real bore; while she is in the novel, and the movie just had to have a romance, I wish she had more to do than stand around and look concerned while the male characters save the day.  And at the end of the movie, she abruptly mentions her love for Fogg, partly because he saved her life, when actually it was Passepartout who did all the work saving her (and he would have made a better romantic match for her, too).
 Along with the impressive wide screen look of the film, it's best characteristic is in Cantinflas's winning performance as Passepartout.  Although unknown in America, Cantinflas was a huge star in Latin America, where he was given star billing.  And really, that's how it should be, it really is Passepartout's film more than Fogg's, as we often see the exotic sites of the places they go through his eyes, and he seems to be the one who winds up in dangerous situations more than Fogg (one can see why Jackie Chan was hired for the role in Frank Coraci's disappointing 2004 version of the same story).  Cantinflas was known as the Spanish Charlie Chaplin (the outfit he wears in most of the film resembles Chaplin's famous tramp costume), and his flair for physical comedy is apparent from the first time we see him skillfully riding an enormous wheeled bicycle.  His character claims that he has 12 professions, including trapeze artist and athletic instructor, and we believe him; in the course of the film we will see him do a flamenco dance, climb on a moving train, ride on an ostrich, and become a reluctant matador (for which he did his own stunts).  He is so good in the role that it's a shame he didn't work in Hollywood more, but we do have this film as a tribute to his talent, which is its biggest strength.

Cantinflas and Marlene Dietrich

Finally, I should mention the film's gimmick of having big stars like Frank Sinatra and Peter Lorre appear in cameo roles; inevitably, this dates the film, but it is fun for fans of old movies to pick them out, and it probably was a thrill for audiences at that time.  The best of the lot is sultry Marlene Detrich as a leggy saloon gal of the old west who flirts with both Passepartout and Fogg, while glowering gangster actor George Raft looks on in anger; it's a clever scene that works even if you don't know who the stars are.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

While it's clear that I do have a fondness for AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS, I don't think it holds up as well as George Steven's epic GIANT, Laurence Olivier's RICHARD III, or Stanley Kubrick's THE KILLING.  But it's hard for me to dislike a movie that's so eager to please, so I won't complain about the Academy's choice.

MARTY (1955)

MARTY (DIR: DELBERT MANN) (SCR: PADDY CHAYEFSKY)


By choosing MARTY for best picture of 1954, the Academy rewarded what it easily one of the least glamorous best picture winners ever; it's a modest, low budget, black and white romantic drama with blue collar characters, no big stars and a mere 90 minute running time.  Yet, despite (or maybe because of) its unassuming nature, it remains a touching and worthwhile film that holds up well decades later.

Before it  was  a movie, MARTY  was a television episode of the same name on "The Philco-Goodyear Television Playhouse", broadcast in 1953.  Hollywood producer Harold Hecht enjoyed it and thought there was a movie in it, but it took some convincing to get writer Paddy Chayefsky to agree to it, since he feared that it would be commercialized by Hollywood; Hecht offered to have Chayefsky involved in the entire process of the film, and hired Delbert Mann, who had directed the original TV episode, to also direct the film, and Chayefsky relented (along with being the writer of the film, he would be credited as an associate producer).  Originally the writer and director wanted Rod Steiger, who had played the lead in the television version, to reprise the role, but he refused.  When Ernest Borgnine's name came up, they were at first unsure; up to that point in his career he was known mainly for playing the brutal sadist Sgt. Judson in 1953's FROM HERE TO ETERNITY, and the idea of him playing a goodhearted man in a lead role seemed unlikely.  But Borgnine's  audition for the role convinced them, and he would go on to win a best actor Oscar for it. 
At one point during the film's shooting, due to mismanagement by Hecht and co producer Burt Lancaster (yes, the movie star), funds dried up, and the film was only completed when a deal was struck with United Artists.  After its completion, the studio was unsure what to do with it, and it was dumped in theaters with little promotion, but strong reviews (including one by famed columnist Walter Winchell) and word of mouth would eventually turn it into a hit, and it wound up returning over three million dollars on a budget of under half a million.

Esther Minciotti and Ernest Borgnine

MARTY tells the story of Marty Piletti (Borgnine) a sweet, heavy, thirty four year old Italian butcher who is unmarried and still lives with his mother.  He has resigned himself to a life of loneliness, but, one night, after reluctantly going to a  dance hall with his friend Angie (Joe Matell), he meets a schoolteacher named Clara (Betsy Blair), who has been abandoned by the man who brought her there.  The two of them spend hours together talking, and an immediate connection is formed.  After taking her home, Marty promises to call her the next day, but reconsiders when Angie and Marty's mother (Augusta Ciolli) voice their disapproval of her.  But he can't stop thinking about her, and finally does call her, even telling Angie that he may want to marry her sometime soon.
In keeping with the blue collar nature of its characters, much of the film was shot on location in Brooklyn in real bars and dance halls, and director Mann often fills the frame with crowds of people to show the hectic nature of big city life.   Chayefsky's Oscar winning script is heavy on dialogue and simple situations (not a surprise given its TV origins), but that's not a problem since his dialogue is straightforward, believable, and never dull.  And he makes sure that his characters are neither too perfect or too horrible, like Marty's mother who is sometimes overbearing, but means well.

The film really hangs on Borgnine's performance, and he is marvelous, practically radiating patience and sweetness as he suffers through the indignities of his life: having women in the butcher shop berate him for not being married,  or having to beg for a date with an uninterested woman on the phone.  And there is fine romantic chemistry between him and Blair's Clara; we completely believe that these two lonely people can be drawn to each other so quickly, and that they would be so open to each other within hours of meeting (Marty even admits to her that he has at times considered suicide).  It's charming the way that Borgnine talks too fast after first meeting Clara, or the way that he joyfully swings on stop sign after saying goodnight to her.  Blair is also very good, especially in the scene where she sits alone and cries when she thinks Marty will never call her; the fact that Blair underplays the moment and doesn't go for obvious sympathy actually makes it all the more moving.

Betsy Blair and Ernest Borgnine

The film's main flaw is that in the transition from fifty one minute television show to ninety minute film, there is some obvious padding: scenes with Angie searching for Marty are pointless, and too much time is spent on a subplot involving Marty's aunt (Augusta Ciolli).  I also object to the idea that Betsy Blair is plain, even if she has a (purposely?) unattractive hairstyle and matronly clothes, she is far from the unattractive woman that the characters in the film describe her as.  But these are minor points in what is a mostly successful film.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

While I love the fact that the Academy awarded a low budget sleeper like MARTY, and I obviously enjoy the film, I think there were other films released that year that made more of an impact, such as Nicholas Ray's REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE and Charles Laughton's THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER.  Still, MARTY certainly isn't a poor choice.

ON THE WATERFRONT (1954)

Enjoy my ramblings?  Check out my new blog here.

ON THE WATERFRONT (DIR: ELIA KAZAN) (SCR: BUDD SCHULBERG, SUGGESTED BY ARTICLES BY MALCOM JOHNSON


The Academy's pick for best picture of 1954, the tough drama, ON THE WATERFRONT, was the second best picture winner for director Elia Kazan, seven years after GENTLEMAN'S AGREEMENT. More importantly, it is one of the best remembered best picture winners ever, with Marlon Brando giving a legendary performance that is still being studied in film and acting schools.
It's Genesis began in 1949 when reporter Malcolm Johnson won a Pulitzer Prize for a series of articles entitled "Crime on the Waterfront", about mob influenced corruption on the New York City docks.  The articles caught the interest of playwright Arthur Miller, who wrote a script entitled HOOK for Kazan to direct,  but when Miller refused to make the villains communists,  Kazan replaced him with screenwriter Budd Schulberg instead.  Schulberg spent two years on the dockyards researching the film for his eventually Oscar winning script, which was initially turned down by more than one studio until producer Sam Spiegel set up a deal with Columbia.  It would go on to gross about four times its million dollar budget.
For the lead role of Terry Malloy, Frank Sinatra was considered, but Brando was eventually convinced to do it, as he was a bigger box office draw at the time than Sinatra.  Brando began his brilliant (but wildly uneven) acting career on the stage, breaking through into the big time in 1947 with his role as Stanley Kowalski in Tennesee Williams's,  Broadway hit, A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE, which was directed by Kazan.  Brando was the first actor to popularize what came to be known as "method" acting, in which the performer attempted to immerse his or her self into the character being portrayed, and it is a style still used today by actors like Sean Penn.  He made his cinematic debut as a handicapped world war two veteran in 1950's THE MEN, followed a year later by the inevitable movie version of STREETCAR, with Kazan directing the film version also.  By 1954 Brando was a big star (and sex symbol) who had given several memorable performances,  but his Terry Malloy in ON THE WATERFRONT would prove to be his most famous role (perhaps tied with THE GODFATHER) , and it would garner him his first Oscar for best actor.
The film tells the story of Terry Malloy, a dim witted former boxer and dock worker, who's brother Charlie(Rod Stieger) is the right hand man for Johnny Friendly (Lee J Cobb), a gangster who runs the docks with an iron hand.  When Terry inadvertently sets up a friend to be killed by the mob, he at first shrugs it off, but then later, when he finds himself falling for Edie(Eva Marie Saint), the dead man's sister, he finds himself drawn towards going to the police.  This leads to tragic consequences, but it eventually ends the mob's control over the shipyards.

Eva Marie Saint and Marlon Brando

Kazan shot most of the film on location in Hoboken, New Jersey, and used real dockworkers as extras, and that along with the gritty black and white cinematography(by Boris Kaufman, who also won an Oscar) gives the film a documentary, you-are-there style,  that works perfectly for the story and complements the naturalistic performances. And Leonard Bernstein's booming, powerful score is excellent, especially in the heavy drumming that accompanies the film's opening, when Johnny Friendly, strutting like Mussolini, leads his gang down the dock.
Brando's performance dominates the film, and it is a wonder; although he plays another dense, physical character like his Stanley Kowalski in STREETCAR, Terry has a much more sensitive side, as we see in his love of raising pigeons and the fact that he is a kind of father figure to local street kids.  And his romantic chemistry with Edie (Saint also won an Oscar for best supporting actress) is fine and moving, even if they seem mismatched at first.  More importantly, he believably changes from a cynical, lazy man who gets easy jobs on the shipyards because his brother is a high ranking gangster, to someone willing to stand up for the right thing, even when his own life is at stake.
The film's most famous scene, of course, is when Terry and Charlie sit in the back of a cab and Charlie pleads with Terry not to go to the police; it truly is a classic moment, with Steiger's stern but almost gentle pleading matching Brando's conflicted sadness wonderfully.  The viewer truly senses the closeness between the two brothers, even when Charlie pulls a gun on Terry, he does it reluctantly, and Terry pushes it away in an almost tender gesture. 

Rod Steiger and Marlon Brando

As much as I love Brando's acting, I think Kazan makes a mistake at the film's ending, when he switches to a heavy handed, almost poetic style and turns Terry into a Christ figure; I also find the film's ending a little too neat, with the mob too easily defeated by Terry's bravery.  But the film's most glaring error lies in Karl Malden's crusading priest, Father Barry, an unnecessary character who's hammy speeches quickly become tiresome.  Although he clearly is there to help push Terry to the side of righteousness, I think Terry's love for Edie shows that clearly enough.
Finally, I can't write about this film without discussing the importance of its context in Kazan's life; in 1952 Kazan, an admitted former Communist, was called to testify in front of the House of UnAmerican Activities Committee.  To save his own career, he named names, (including playwright Clifford Odets) essentially ruining their ability to find work; he would later claim that the people he named had already been blacklisted, but the damage was done, and the stain of what many people in Hollywood saw as a betrayal would hang onto him for the rest of his life.  Indeed, in 1999 when he was given an honorary Academy Award, some people in the audience refused to applaud.  In regards to ON THE WATERFRONT, Kazan freely admitted that he was drawn to the material because he identified with Terry Malloy (screenwriter Budd Schulberg also named names at HUAC); "Every day I worked on that film, I was telling the world where I stood" he would later say.  Personally, I find this analogy difficult to swallow; does Kazan really expect us to believe that a man turning murderous gangsters who killed his brother in to the police is the same as his naming the names of people who joined the Communist party at a time when it was perfectly legal to do so?  Terry Malloy risks his life to go after the mob; by being a friendly witness, Elia Kazan risked nothing but his reputation.  So, for me,  the easiest way to enjoy this film is to dwell entirely in its own world and ignore Kazan's sub textural message, which has become easier to do as the years have passed by and Kazan's own passing has taken place.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

1954 turned out to an impressive year for Hollywood: along with this film REAR WINDOW, A STAR IS BORN and SEVEN BRIDES FOR SEVEN BROTHERS have all been remembered and revered.  But my personal favorite film of that year is Herbert Biberman's little seen SALT OF THE EARTH, a powerful film about racism and sexism; although it is rough around the edges, it was decades ahead of its time.

FROM HERE TO ETERNITY(1953)

FROM HERE TO ETERNITY  (DIR: FRED ZINNEMANN) (SCR: DANIEL TARADASH, BASED ON THE NOVEL OF THE SAME NAME BY JAMES JONES)


After the disastrous choice of THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH the previous year, the Academy righted itself by awarding Fred Zinnemann's well made and well acted military drama FROM HERE TO ETERNITY the best picture of 1953; it was also an enormous box office hit.  It's hard to believe now, but for some time the idea of making a movie out of James Jones's novel was considered impossible.
The novel was published in 1951, and it was a big best seller.  But it was also so laced with profanity, sex and violence that many people in Hollywood thought that Columbia studio head Harry Cohn was crazy for buying the rights.  But he continued, hiring first Jones himself to adapt his own novel, and then replacing him with veteran screenwriter Daniel Taradash, who created a script that could pass muster with the production code: obviously, the profanity was thrown out, the violence became more implied than shown, a brothel became a nightclub (and the prostitutes became "hostesses"), and the overall sexual tone of the novel was toned down (although this film is about as sexy as a Hollywood movie could be at that time!).  Finally, so that a less negative light was thrown on the military, a corrupt officer is court marshaled in the film, when in the book he is promoted.  While Taradash's Oscar winning script occasionally lapses into soap opera territory, (especially in its depiction of an adulterous affair)and maybe has one character too many  give a speech outlining their back story, it is still intelligent and well written, and shows that adult material could be made under the production code in the right way.   Along with writing the script, Taradash also convinced Cohn to hire Zinnemann to direct.
The casting, which lead to more than one fight between Zinnemann and the studio (he threatened to leave the film unless Montgomery Clift was given the role of Robert E Lee Prewitt),  is just right in every part, from main players Clift, Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr (cast against type in a sexy role) to supporting actors Donna Reed, Ernest Borgnine and Frank Sinatra.  Sinatra, who's career was at a low point, lobbied hard for the role of Angelo Maggio, and may have even offered to pay for it!  It nearly went to Eli Wallach, but he chose to do a role on Broadway instead.  In Mario Puzo's 1969 novel THE GODFATHER(and in the 1972 movie of that novel) Puzo clearly implied that Sinatra was given the role because he had friends in the Mafia who pressured the studio, but these rumors have never been proven.  In any event,  Sinatra would turn out to be perfect for the part, playing a character that seemed written for him (that is, a boozy womanizer with a good nature but a hot temper) and the film's success, and the Oscar he won for best supporting actor, made him a star again.

Montgomery Clift and Frank Sinatra

The film's story takes place on a military base in Hawaii in 1941, and it focuses mainly on two men, Sergeant Milton Warden (Lancaster) and Private Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Clift).  Prewitt, who is new to the company, is a bugle player and former top flight boxer who gave up boxing after he blinded a friend while sparring.  His new commanding officer, Captain Dana Holmes(Philip Ober), wants him to box for the company, and when he refuses, Holmes orders his men to break Prewitt by targeting him for the worst kinds of physical labor, but he still refuses.  Meanwhile, Warden begins to have an illicit affair with the wife of Holmes(Kerr).  All of these problems are swept to the wayside when the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor (which Zinnemann shows in a striking mix of new footage and actual war footage).
The most famous scene in the movie is, of course, when Kerr and Lancaster make love on the beach while waves literally crash around them, and, after decades of far more graphic sex scenes, it still seems hot and passionate today.  I think this partly is because of it's context (here is a Sergeant who is risking everything to have an affair with his commanding officer's wife!) and partly because of the excellent chemistry between the two leads: when they first meet in an earlier scene, the sexual tension between them is almost palpable even without them touching.  It should also be noted how unusual the Deborah Kerr character is; here is a woman who has had more than one affair, but who nonetheless is likable and sympathetic, as it clear that she is reacting to her husband's own drunken infidelities.

Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr

Although the beach scene  may be what the film is best remembered for, I think its strongest element is Clift's performance; along with Marlon Brando and James Dean, Clift would come to define "cool" acting in the 1950's.  Like those two often did, Clift here plays someone who is tough but tender, frequently silent and brooding, and who is capable of quick sudden acts of violence when necessary.  Clift reportedly took the role very seriously, learning how to play the bugle and box (although, some what inevitably, his bugle playing would be dubbed over, and a body double was often used for him during his fight scene), and his intensity raises the entire movie.  He believably plays a character who can, at one moment play a tearful reverie for his dead friend Maggio, and then in the next hunt down the man responsible for Maggio's death and get into a knife fight with him. 
Other strong points for the film is Zinnemann's decision to shoot it in stark black and white (cinematographer Burnett Guffey won an Oscar for his excellent use of light and shadow), and to make it on location at the Shofield Barracks in Hawaii.  Most importantly, Zinnemann keeps the story believable,  moves it along briskly, and effectively shows how the entire world changed for these characters after the attack on Pearl Harbor.  All in all, I think this film earns its status as a classic.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

Obviously, I consider this a worthy movie, and although other fine films like SHANE, ROMAN HOLIDAY and THE BIG HEAT came out that year, I think this is the clear winner for that year.

THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH(1952)

THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH (DIR: CECIL B. DEMILLE) (SCR: FREDRIC M. FRANK, THEODORE ST. JOHN, AND FRANK CAVETT)

There is a general consensus that 1952's THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH is the least deserving best picture winner ever, and I must say that that is an opinion I agree with whole heartedly, and I'll go further: it's one of the worst all star, big budget movies ever.  From it's terrible script to its leaden direction, it's truly a bloated, dumb, loud awful film.  The only possible entertainment it provides is in laughing at its ridiculous excesses.  Excesses brought to you by the king of overblown movies, Cecil B. DeMille.
DeMille's cinematic career stretched all the way back to the days of silent films, of which he directed many, and in which he showed a flair for big spectacle scenes.   Personally, I think DeMille hit his peak in those  days, (I consider his 1927 film KING OF KINGS to be the best version of the Christ story ever  filmed) when his gift for strong visuals and big crowd scenes overcame his poor direction of actors in more intimate scenes.  Indeed, many of the actors in his sound films seemed to use the same broad and dramatic gestures that silent actors used, to often laughable affect.

James Stewart, Cornel Wilde and Charleton Heston display some not so subtle acting

  
Matters of opinion aside, one thing was true, by the time he made THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH, DeMille was one of the most famous directors in Hollywood, and one of the few who's name was known to the general public, as he often made radio and TV appearances as himself, and he also played himself in 1950's SUNSET BOULEVARD.  He was so successful that he had his own production company (called Cecil B. DeMille productions, he never lacked in ego!), and, in 1948, when David O Selznik's attempt to raise money for a behind the scenes look at the circus failed, he stepped in and bought the rights, holding a press conference to announce the start of production with none other than John Ringling of The  Ringling's Bros. Circus attending.  (He would also pay that circus $250,000 for the use of their facilities and rights to the film's title that the circus used in promoting itself.)  It is no surprise that DeMille would be attracted to the material, given his own penchant for hyperbolicly narrating his own films like a ringmaster, and he embarked on a tour with the circus for research purposes, while various writers worked on the script.  Eventually, writers Frederic M Frank, Theodore St. John and Frank Cavett would cobble together a bunch of show business stereotypes and cliche's and work them into a circus setting, while being sure to add a big (and utterly ridiculous) train wreck at the film's end to satisfy DeMille's need for spectacle, and he was satisfied. 
With a lousy script all set, he went on to some terrible casting: first, there is Charleton Heston as Brad, the idealistic circus owner.  Now you would think that a guy so dedicated to entertaining people might be a fun, good natured person, but instead he comes across as so dour, self righteous and stoic that he's hard to care about.  Honestly, his performance as Moses three years later would be less serious! Then there's Cornel Wilde as trapeze artist The Great Sebastian, an egotistical womanizer with a fake French accent that resembles that of the cartoon skunk Pepe Le Pew.  Although Wilde does try to bring a little humor to the role, he's so unlikable that when an accident occurs that may lead to his never being able to perform again, DeMille's attempts to wring drama from the situation are utterly false; as with the Heston character, it's difficult to care. Then there is Betty Hutton as Holly, another trapeze artist; Hutton uses her brand of over the top perky blandness to an annoying extent, and even worse, she is at the center of a love triangle between Wilde and Heston in which nobody seems to deserve anybody!  Dorothy Lamour appears as generic circus performer Phylis, and fails to make any kind of impression, still she should be mentioned because she sings a song called "Lovely Luawana Lady" with lyrics that are as idiotic as its title.  Slinky Gloria Grahame as animal trainer Angel gives the film's least embarrassing performance, but even she has to suffer through a scene in which her jealous animal trainer boyfriend (Lyle Bettger) threatens to have her face stomped in by an elephant.  Finally, there is Jimmy Stewart as the clown Buttons, who never takes off his makeup because of his mysterious past(!).  Stewart is one of the great movie stars, but one thing he was never known for was physical comedy; casting him as a clown was an enormous error, as we see when none of his clowning scenes are even remotely funny (although, in all fairness to Stewart, none of the clowns in the film are funny, no not even the famous Emmett Kelly). And if casting Stewart as a clown was a mistake, having him sing was an even bigger one: yes, there is a moment when Stewart, Hutton, Kelly and a little person bounce on a trampoline  while singing a song entitled "Be a Jumping-Jack". (A typical lyric: "Keep on the hop, and if you flop, and everything looks black, stand on your head and holler 'hi there!' Be a jumping jack!" ) This moment is so jaw droopingly awful, so utterly misguided (it's not even performed before an audience, it's just supposed to show how circus performers spend their free time!) that it must be seen to be believed.  I consider it one of the worst musical numbers in a big budget Hollywood film ever.

Betty Hutton and James Stewart bounce through a terrible song

  And as a crowning glory to the lousy performances, DeMille himself narrates the film in such over the top, ham handed tones that he makes a circus moving into town sound like a play by play of the second coming.
Along with the terrible performances and moronic script, there is another, deeper flaw in the film's very conception; the reason that death defying circus performances are entertaining to a live audience lies in the fact  that the performers are risking life and limb right there in front of you, and that at any moment something might go wrong.  None of this excitement can translate to a movie, where watching actors pretend to perform dangerous tricks quickly becomes tedious, since we know nothing bad will happen until the script demands it.   Only live performance can give that sense of danger that's necessary to thrilling circus acts.  Other kinds of circus acts come across even worse on the big screen; honestly, the only thing in the world I find more boring than a never ending circus parade is a movie of one.  And  DeMille's desire to be authentic means that he usually places the camera in the circus audience's point of view  during the various acts; oddly, he gives the audience a lousy seat that's too far away from the action.  Even his direction of the extras playing the circus crowd is terrible; at one point we see a grown man get excited at the sight of a circus performer dressed as Mickey Mouse!

And to add to the film's undeserved win for Best Picture, there are rumors that the only reason it won was because DeMille was an ardent anti Communist, and Hollywood was being investigated at the time by the House of UnAmerican Activities Committee.  By naming his film the Best Picture of the year, Hollywood could disprove rumors of Communist influence. Which is no reason to reward a film this lousy. 

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

I think the reader can guess where I stand on that question; really, there is almost nothing good I can say about this film (unfortunately, it proved to an enormous box office hit, proving DeMille's quote: "Every time I make a picture the critics' estimate of American public taste goes down ten percent." ) The number of superior films released that year is long: HIGH NOON, THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL, THE QUIET MAN, VIVA ZAPATA!, LIMELIGHT, THE LAVENDER HILL MOB, and my personal favorite SINGIN' IN THE RAIN.  Really, I think almost any movie from that year chosen at random couldn't possibly be worse than THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH.

AN AMERICAN IN PARIS (1951)

AN AMERICAN IN PARIS (DIR: VINCENT MINNELLI) (SCR: ALAN JAY LERNER)

For the best picture of 1951 the Academy picked director Vincent Minnelli's AN AMERICAN IN PARIS, (the first musical to win since 1944's GOING MY WAY) and it's one of the most lighthearted best picture winners ever; with its lovely Ira Gershwin score, beautiful technicolor photography and talented cast, it was an obvious choice, but the film's flimsy story keeps it, in my opinion, just short of classic status. Unbeknownst to the Academy, Gene Kelly would team up with director Stanley Donen a year later and make SINGIN' IN THE RAIN, a better musical in every way.
While I am certainly a fan of the films of Fred Astaire, I think overall Gene Kelly was the best song and dance movie star ever; I find his more physical and masculine style of dance more engaging than Astaire's somewhat effete nimbleness.  And I think Kelly was a better singer and actor than Astaire, with Astaire's screen presence only really coming alive when he started to dance.   Kelly's career in Hollywood began when he left Broadway in 1942 to make the musical ME AND MY GAL with Judy Garland and decided to stay.  Minnelli's career also began in Broadway, and he moved to Hollywood in 1943 to direct CABIN IN THE SKY.  Before AN AMERICAN IN PARIS the two men had worked together in 1945's ZIEGFELD FOLLIES (in which Minnelli directed Kelly and Astaire dancing together for the first time) and 1948's THE PIRATE.  The idea for AN AMERICAN IN PARIS began when the two of them wanted to do a new kind of dance scene in a movie, a long, big, bold one that would feature ballet style dancing by a large cast, along with huge sets and many costume changes, and absolutely no singing or speaking.  (It's precedent can be seen in a short ballet fantasy scene in 1949's ON THE TOWN, directed by Stanley Donen and starring Kelly).  At first MGM studio executives were dubious on the idea, until Kelly and Minnelli screened 1948's Micheal Powell and Emeric Pressburger film THE RED SHOES for them to give them an idea of what they were looking for.
With the green light given, Alan J Lerner was commissioned to write a script around the star and the director's concept, and the rights to Ira Gershwin's score was bought.  Initially, Kelly hoped to shoot the film on location, but that was considered too complicated by the studio, and the film was shot entirely on MGM sets except for a few travelogue shots at the beginning.  (Personally, I think this detracts from the film quite a bit.)  One thing Kelly did get was his choice of leading lady: 19 year old Leslie Caron, a dancer he had seen while vacationing in Paris; this would be her film debut.

Leslie Caron and Gene Kelly

The film's story deals with Jerry Mulligan (Gene Kelly), a former GI who chose to stay in Paris and paint after World War II.  He eventually meets Milo Roberts(Nina Foch),  a wealthy, attractive American woman  who likes both him and his art.  But instead he falls for pretty Lise Bouvier (Caron), not knowing that she is already involved with cabaret singer Henri Baurel (Georges Guetary).  This simple story is really just framework to hang the musical scenes on, but that's not entirely a bad thing, given how good those scenes are.  In contrast to the big ballet fantasy at the end, (which is clearly supposed to be inside Jerry's imagination) the other big dance moments in the film have a charmingly offhand manner about them, as if Kelly's dancing springs from an honest spontaneous desire by his character to tap dance in his apartment room or show off different moves to impress a group of children.  And I like the film's romanticized view of Paris, where struggling artists living in charmingly ramshackle apartments, while cafe society is in full swing.  I also enjoy the casting of Oscar Levant as Jerry's American friend Adam; Levant gets a chance to show off his excellent musical skills in a solo piano number, and his hang dog expressions and dour line delivery make him an excellent foil to the sunny, optimistic Kelly.

The pure spectacle of the final dance scene

Finally, there is that final ballet fantasy sequence, the moment that the entire film is building up to; it is indeed, one impressive spectacle, that reportedly took an entire month to film and cost half a million dollars.  In it, Kelly pursues Caron thorough numerous gorgeous sets based on paintings by famous French impressionist painters like Toulouse-Lautrec.  At seventeen minutes, it never seems to lag, with costume and set changes coming quickly as Minnelli's camera swoops around the dancers, as graceful as their movements. Impressively, intimate dance moments between the two leads are often followed by a cast of literally hundreds of dancers moving in unison.  Still, I think that Kelly topped even this excellent scene with the "Broadway Rhythm" sequence from SINGIN' IN THE RAIN a year later.

I mentioned the thinness of the story, and while it doesn't ruin the film, it certainly is noticeable at times, with the romance between Jerry and Lise moving in a predictable way, while poor Nina Foch's Milo, a far more interesting character than Lise,  is barely used.  Even worse is the way that are two lovers meet: Jerry spies Lise in a cafe, is immediately smitten, and pursues even when she shows no interest.  His aggression seems downright rude!  And while Caron is obviously a talented dancer, her acting here is not particularly impressive, and her chemistry with Kelly only really works when she dances.  Still, this film features Kelly in some of his best onscreen dance scenes ever, bursting with energy and grace, and for that alone it is terrific and worth seeing.  I've already compared it to SINGIN' IN THE RAIN more than once, and it's hard not to do since both films star Kelly and were released back to back, so let me compare them one last time:  AN AMERICAN IN PARIS is a very good Hollywood musical, SINGIN' IN THE RAIN is perhaps the best Hollywood musical ever.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?
It's easy to see while the Academy was impressed with this film, and, given it's classy style (sets inspired by French impressionist painters!) it was a safe choice for best picture.   But there were better films that year, such as Alfred Hitchcock's STRANGERS ON A TRAIN, Elia Kazan's A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE, John Huston's THE AFRICAN QUEEN, and Billy Wilder's THE BIG CARNIVAL.  Still, the Academy could have done much worse than AN AMERICAN IN PARIS, as they would show in their choice for the next best picture award...

ALL ABOUT EVE (1950)

Enjoy my ramblings?  Check out my new blog here.


ALL ABOUT EVE (DIR: JOSEPH L. MANKIEWICZ) (SCR: MANKIEWIZC, BASED ON THE SHORT STORY "THE WISDOM OF EVE" BY MARY ORR)

After picking ALL THE KING'S MEN in 1949, which cast a cynical eye at modern politics, the Academy turned to a film that looked at the Broadway theater world with the same harsh gaze, but this time the cynicism was coated with acidic wit.  ALL ABOUT EVE's win for best picture seemed inevitable, given that it was nominated for a then record breaking fourteen awards, and, while it's box office was relatively modest,(around four million dollars on a million and a half dollar budget) it quickly became a cult film, especially for fans of star Bette Davis, or for anyone who enjoys sharp, clever dialogue well delivered by an attractive cast.
It's life began when a 1946 issue of Cosmopolitan magazine ran a short story by Mary Orr entitled "The Wisdom of Eve".  Orr based the story on actress Elisabeth Bergner, who, after hiring an admiring fan to be her personal assistant, found that the young woman was using her to advance her own acting career.  Director Joseph L. Mankiewicz read the story and believed that he could combine it with an idea he had about an aging actress, and he convinced 20th. Century Fox studio head Darryl F. Zanuck to buy the rights to the story. Mankiewicz's career stretched back to writing title cards for silent films, before he began screenwriting, and finally, directing (with 1946's BACKFIRE).  By the time he started working on EVE, he was at the top of his game after winning Oscars for both the writing and the direction of 1949's A LETTER TO THREE WIVES.  On the strength of that film, he became known as a writer and director of films for and about women, a reputation which EVE would certainly confirm.

Bette Davis

His skill at casting would prove to be perfect, with stars like Anne Baxter, Celeste Holm and George Saunders breathing life into his smart script, not to mention a young Marilyn Monroe in her first substantial role. And of course there was Bette Davis; considering how perfect Davis was for the major part of Margo Channing, it seems hard to believe that Claudette Colbert was initially cast, and that Davis was called in on a week's notice when Colbert suffered a ruptured disc.  Colbert's loss would be Davis' gain; although she would lose the best actress award that year to Judy Holliday in BORN YESTERDAY,  Margo Channing would probably prove to be the legendary star's best remembered and most revered role.


The movie begins at a theatrical award banquet being given in honor of Eve Carrington (Baxter), a pretty young new starlet.  In voice over, Addison Dewitt (Saunders), setting the tone of sharp humor that will continue through the film, tells the audience a little about the evening's guests, and then in flashback we see how they all got there.  About a year earlier, Karen (Holm) wife of playwright Lloyd Richards (Hugh Marlowe), met Eve standing outside the dressing room of big theatrical star Margo Channing.  Karen recognizes  Eve because the young woman  has gone to each performance of Margo's current play without fail.  Karen invites the shy woman in to meet Margo, and when Eve tells them all the sad story of the death of her soldier husband, and how she has become entranced by Margo on the stage, Margo is touched, and before you know it Eve has become her personal assistant.  At first, Eve seems innocent and supportive of Margo, but slowly but surely he begins to intrude upon her life, even trying to seduce Margo's boyfriend,  Bill Sampson(Gary Merrill).
Although Davis's performance  is mostly  remembered for the way she gleefully rips through her catty lines ("Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy night!" and "I detest cheap sentiment!"), it should also be noted for her more subtle moments, her Margo is vain and self pitying, but also likable and vulnerable in her fear of aging and loneliness.  She wonderfully delivers a moving speech to Karen about her fear of being alone when she thinks she's losing Bill, and there is  excellent romantic chemistry between her and  Merrill (which was not all pretend, she would marry Merrill shortly after the film wrapped).  And, while she looks great, wearing gowns designed by famed costume designer Edith Head, she's also willing to show her natural age, especially in a scene where she is awakened from a deep sleep.
While Davis may dominate the film, Baxter is every bit as good as the duplicitous Eve; hers is in many ways the trickier role, since Eve so rarely displays her real emotions,  and Baxter believably gives a performance within a performance, perfectly playing the wide eyed innocent and completely fooling Margo and her friends(except for Thelma Ritter's Birdie, who is on to Eve from the start).  I love the way that Eve poses in the mirror with one of Margo's stage costumes when she thinks no one is looking, or the way that she turns from kind to cruel when she tries to blackmail Karen.

Anne Baxter

While the film is full of virtues, it is not perfect; at two hours and fifteen minutes, it drags at times, especially towards the end.  (Eve's final, unnecessary speech at the awards show is a good example of this).  And I think Mankiewicz's skills as a screenwriter exceed his skills as a director; for a film with so many memorable lines, there are no memorable images.  And at times, the characters onscreen seem crowded in;  he also often allows static takes to go on for too long.  And even the script has some problems:  while I enjoy Addison Dewitt's narration, further narration from Margo and Karen adds nothing and could easily have been cut.  And why does Thelma Ritter's very funny Birdie character disappear from the second half of the film?  She steals every scene she's in, so I would have liked to have seen more of her, especially since she is proven right about Eve.

SO DID THE ACADEMY GET IT RIGHT?

While it's easy to see why the Academy would award such a intelligent and sophisticated film, there was another film that year that also took a harsh look at the underbelly of show business, and it too would go on to become a cult film: Billy Wilder's SUNSET BOULEVARD.  While it's not surprising that the Academy would avoid awarding Wilder's film, seeing as it was Hollywood itself that Wilder was criticizing, I think that his film holds up just a little bit better than ALL ABOUT EVE.  (Interestingly, both films would eventually be adapted into Broadway musicals). Still, EVE is far from a bad choice.  I should also mention Carol Reed's outstanding thriller THE THIRD MAN, with Orson Welles playing one of the best movie villains ever, would also have been a good choice.